


young and beautiful

by sirensongs (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sirensongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is just the handsome young man who works in the stable and Louis is the beautiful boy who thinks he might be smitten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	young and beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> i'll explain why i chose the title at the end okie! i hope you like it!!  
> and you can check me out on tumblr at http://sugarandstyles.tumblr.com ♡

Louis knows better than to trust people. He just does. Trust is a fool’s game, a gambit for the lonely and disturbed. Louis is both but he wouldn’t admit to that. Admittance is just not something Louis likes, anyway.

It’s fine this way, really, it is. Louis is always perched beautifully in his parents’ mansion and he can watch his cousins play polo from one of his bedroom windows and from another he can watch his mother and her girlfriends get water aerobics classes from some tanned Cuban instructor. And if he feels particularly interested he can pull back the curtains on a far North window and watch some of the horses and see his little sisters riding and grooming them.

There’s no reason for Louis to try and confront himself. He has a vicious hole in his heart, maybe even his stomach sometimes, but he doesn’t really mind. No, of course he doesn’t mind. The pain he feels is just going to be part of him, it always will. As long as he’s been alive he’s been so detrimentally challenged with loathing and disgust. He can’t quite explain it all but it doesn’t matter. 

Simply put, Louis is a bitch. He knows it, he doesn’t care, move on. 

No matter how many boutique style closets he has (just two), no matter what accessories and staples he wears, no matter what unique paintings or gourmet desserts, no matter the time or place, Louis knows sadness and he knows it better than he knows most people.

But seriously, he doesn’t need people feeling sorry for him. He’s learned to just deal with it. He can hang on to the high he feels as he swipes his plastic and the hope he has for some distant thing in the future, though that varies from day to day. Some days he convinces himself to ignore his sadness and look forward to a party that’s upcoming. Once the party has passed he finds himself something else to look forward to. A vicious cycle that he’s become accustomed to.

So maybe Louis is a little dramatic. Maybe he’s a little prissy but who cares? Money doesn’t buy you happiness and Louis doesn’t know any other way to get it so he’s just going to try and prove the former statement wrong. Over and over and over.

Maybe, just maybe, ‘love’ is the key to happiness. Louis realizes he felt truly happy once, with a boy, but that’s behind him because that boy is a pretentious ass-hat with no moral compass or sense and so Louis would rather be unhappy alone than chasing the little bits of happiness he had with that idiot when they were young and in love.

And Louis has a tutor, he doesn’t go to school or anything, so he realizes the chances of him meeting someone are slim to none and so he gives up on the whole ‘love’ notion because he can.

 

It’s one day in June when Louis is sitting perched on a couch in the piano room, his laptop plugged in and probably burning a hole right through his khaki shorts but he doesn’t really care too much, he can get more.

The sun is shining through the windows and this is Louis’ favorite room because it’s all white. The curtains, the rugs, the furniture, the walls. There are accents of gold in the small knobs and knick knacks, some gold foil prints hung in expensive baroque frames, but other than that it’s white and it’s pure and Louis loves it.

Some classical music is floating from the record player, and he quite hates it but his mother likes him to use it because it was a gift from his grandmother when she was alive. So he just decides it’s yet another thing he doesn’t care much about and he can live with it.

Louis isn’t a terrible person, he doesn’t think he is anyway. Maybe he is an insufferable brat but he’s convinced he’s a great person. Maybe given the right opportunity it could show, but as of yet that has not been an option.

The curtains are blowing quite gently, the windows are open and the wind is luxuriously cool against his skin. He only hopes no bugs get in because that would be a proper pain the ass.

Louis’ best friend Niall was supposed to be over but he cancelled last minute and so Louis just dumped his cup of coffee down the drain and retreated to his little piece of heaven in the piano room.

“Louis!” His mother’s shrill cries and unmistakable and so Louis simply buries his face in his palms.

“Yes, mother?” He calls, trying not to sound to displeased. He fails.

A short woman is balancing on bright pink high heels, her dress is beige and she’s wearing a sunhat. A large sunhat. “Louis, will you please go and get dressed for the derby?! Where’s Niall?”

Louis frown, “He didn’t come, he has some other plans or something, who’s to know? Do I have to go?”

The woman, named Jay, places her hand on her hip and scowls. “Louis William Tomlinson you’d better be dressed and down to the stables in fifteen minutes.”

“Fif—” Louis is silenced by his mother’s interruption: “Fifteen minutes!” She says and he knows it’s final so he just pouts and gets up, closing his laptop and leaving it on a couch. He can do without online shopping for a few hours, he supposes. 

 

Louis is heading down to the stables in no time. He’s dressed in gingham shorts and a solid pique polo, wayfarer sunglasses hiding his big doe eyes and he feels compelled to turn around as he sees that the stable and the tents are overflowing with people. Every year his parents host the Upton Derby, seeing as they live on the Upton estate, and the racecourse is full of contenders, betters, housewives and children dressed up in bowties and slim chinos.

“Louis!” Lottie is rushing over to him, her floral print dress standing out against the bright green grass. “Louis, where is Niall?”

“He couldn’t come,” Louis almost snaps but he remains calm. “Anyway this is a big turn out.”

“Biggest we’ve had. None of the reporters are even here yet, just wait until they realize how big it is, Lou!” The tents are absolutely slammed. “Spectators are making generous donations to the children’s hospitals as well, all for mum’s old jewelry, can you believe it?”

Louis begs himself not to sneer, he simply smiles. “How darling.”

Lottie nods, “Oh, I hope you don’t mind I let Harry borrow your saddle for Reginald.”

Reginald is Louis’ horse and he doesn’t know who Harry is or why he’s riding his horse. “I do mind?” Louis raises a brow. “Who is Harry? Your boyfriend? And Reginald is not a contender this year, he hasn’t been properly ridden in ages.”

This causes Lottie to sigh. A long, dramatic, Tomlinson sigh. “Oh, Louis, this is what happens when you’re always cooped up in the house.” She points over to a very tall boy, his hair is tucked under a helmet but a few loose brown curls fall beneath the cusp. “That’s Harry, Louis. Remember him? Our stable boy?”

“No, I certainly do not,” Louis huffs. “He must be new.”

“He’s been here a few months,” Lottie adds. “He’s been riding Reginald the entire time, Louis. And a bit before he started as staff. You’re not mad are you?”

Louis is fuming, he’s furious, he wants to punch Harry in the throat and stomp on his curls and so he smiles and pats Lottie’s shoulder, “No, of course I’m not mad. Have they got lots of bets, then?”

“Yes, oh, yes! Harry’s a great rider,” Lottie says and Louis raises a brow as he sees the boy’s long, lean legs and his strapping frame. Then he lets his mind slip from the gutter and he nods. 

“Louis!” Louis’ mother is calling for him now and so he waves slightly to Lottie before hurrying down through the entrance tent and into the bustling crowd of people.

“Mother,” Louis begins before she has a chance to say whatever she called him down for. “How long has Harry been employed with us?”

Jay smiles, “Harry has been my employee for seven months, Louis.”

“Why didn’t anybody tell me?” Louis cries.

“We’ve said it a dozen times at least since he started here, I’m sure the girls have mentioned it as well. Honestly it baffles me you don’t know these things, Louis. Did you think the guest house was just—”

Louis throws his hands up, “Guest house? He’s been staying in the guest house? He’s been living here?”

“Yes!” Jay rolls her eyes and Louis can see it behind her aviators. “I really don’t have time to discuss this with you, Louis. I need you to—”

“Mrs. Tomlinson,” a shaky, low voice slowly creeps around Louis’ neck and it’s just strong enough of a distraction from the conversation that Louis doesn’t hear the rest of his mother’s demand and he whips his head around to see a beautiful emerald eyed boy standing, geared up for the race. “Sorry,” he says, and Louis wonders if he accidentally shot him some sort of dirty look or glare (he tends to do that). “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Harry says.

Jay smiles sweetly, “What is it, Harry?”

“I was wondering where my number is,” he asks and his voice is so demure and polite and his hands are folded at his waist and he’s smiling awkwardly with his brows furrowed a bit as if he doesn’t want to say something that could be wrong.

“Louis,” Jay says, seemingly distracted by all of the noise around her and the other people who are trying to get her attention with cameras and paperwork. “Can you take Harry up to the West Office, I left the number up there.” She doesn’t really wait for an answer, she sort of just smiles and turns to speak to a woman dressed in an outrageous pink dress with an insanely oversized sunhat. 

Harry looks expectantly at Louis and so Louis gives Harry a very polite smile. “I’m Louis,” Louis offers his hand to Harry. 

The boy accepts it and it’s weird because Louis is sure he’s shaken hands with hundreds of people and it’s never felt like a jolt of lightning shot through his arm and made him feel weak, not until Harry’s grip tightens for a brief moment. Louis’ mouth falls open and he just grins, “Come on, this way.”

“So you like it here?” Louis asks as they walk across the endless green lawn between the racecourse and the house. 

Harry nods and Louis watches him as he licks his lips before speaking, “Yes sir, it’s great.”

“You’re kidding me?” Louis asks, watching as Harry’s eyes sparkle in the sunlight, he looks up as if he’s apologetic.

“No, sir, I’m not, I really do like it.” His hands are nervously grabbing at his sleeves and so Louis just chuckles.

“I believe you,” Louis responds. “I meant you’re kidding with the whole ‘sir’ thing.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, his mouth is open and his lips trembling a little as if he’s not sure what to say.

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Louis points out. “I’m Louis. I’m Louis and you’re Harry and that’s it, really.”

Now Harry’s smiling and Louis thinks he’s kind of beautiful when he does that. He’s got fresh dimples and a perky little nose, his eyes tighten a little but they still sparkle. “Thanks, Louis.”

“You’re welcome,” Louis laughs, “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

Harry shakes his head, still smiling and his eyes still locked on Louis.

“So why haven’t you ever said hi, Harry?” Louis doesn’t know what he expects to hear or why he asks but the sun is hot and he wants to keep things from being awkward and he feels like he has a seven month gap to fill with Harry.

“Seen you around of course,” Harry begins. “I dunno, you just sorta seemed like you wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to bother you. I’m sorry, should I have said hello?”

“Yes, you should have,” Louis says with a friendly, gushing smile. “Generally I do enjoy being left alone but a friendly face is always welcome.” And he knows that’s entirely false and entirely true at the same time and he’s not sure why but he just knows he hates everyone but he’s easily smitten and Harry’s already proving to be quite an interesting young man.

“Niall said sometimes you just want your space,” Harry admits slowly.

“Niall?” Louis’ ears perk up and he looks to Harry with serious intent. “You know Niall?”

“Of course,” Harry answers. “He’s down at the stables a lot.”

And Louis realizes that is in fact true and that Niall and Harry have spoken about him and he wonders why and he wonders if maybe Harry was the one to initiate the conversation and he wants to find out some how but he knows he will have to just wait to hear it from Niall.

“Hopefully Niall hasn’t said anything terrible about me,” Louis says, nudging at Harry’s shoulder as they approach the paved walkway up to the pool and back doors. 

“Nothing at all!” Harry insists quite seriously and so Louis frowns.

“Harry, it’s okay, it was only a joke,” He pats him on the back, “You’re too afraid of things, Harry.”

So Harry pouts, “I am not. I just don’t want to offend you, I like my job here.”

“Understandable,” Louis admits. “Well I have no interest in getting you into any trouble, in fact I’d like to see you stick around for a good long time.”

“Is that so?” Harry asks as Louis opens the door and lets Harry in.

Louis nods, closing the door and showing him up a large winding staircase past a few closed doors. “Yes, of course. You seem pretty great.”

Harry’s blushing and he’s red as a tomato and Louis thinks he might be able to fall for Harry and he doesn’t really quite care, he simply feels his heart burst as Harry smiles down at his feet, his grin too wide to suppress. “You seem pretty great, too.”

 

Louis has given Harry his number and he’s watching him win from the stands and he feels incredibly smitten and he isn’t sure how to react to everything. He’s been meaning to text Niall but he keeps forgetting because he keeps getting distracted by Harry’s perfection.

 

And then Harry has dinner with Louis’ family and Louis wonders if maybe he’s ever sat at the long table with him and he hadn’t noticed. It is, after all, the first dinner Louis has where he actively listens and participates in conversation. Usually he fiddles with his dinner, making boring comment after boring comment and knowing he’s meaningless. Now he’s interested in that rotten curly headed boy across from him who keeps grinning a stupid grin at him between bites and jokes.

Louis decides he might want to do something stupid because he can and so as his house quiets for the evening and the East Wing is filled with bodies in their beds, Louis quietly finds himself in the West Wing liquor cabinet and he’s bringing two tall glasses and a large bottle of champagne down, down, down the hill and beyond the trees to the guest house. He’s relieved to see the lights are still on and so he knocks, and he is hoping Harry won’t mind or be freaked out because Harry might not even like boys but he supposes he could play it off, couldn’t he?

Harry unlocks the door and he’s standing in just sweatpants which hang dangerously low and reveal his v-line, and Louis gulps a little.

“Thought we should have some actual fun celebrating,” Louis offers. He hands Harry the glasses and then he pokes himself in as Harry smiles, closing the door behind him.

“Brilliant,” Harry beams.

“So you want to hang out?” Louis asks, and wow, it’s a stupid thing to say because it makes him sound like an emotional and lonely little lost puppy but Harry only seems to be more excited and he follows Louis into the living area and they sit down on the couch and Harry’s watching football on the TV and he has some chips in a bowl on the coffee table.

“I would love some company,” Harry assures him. Louis wonders if Harry feels as glad about their meeting, he wonders if Harry finds Louis attractive at all because he really just wants to have Harry’s warm body on top of his own right on the brown leather couch, his warmth and heaviness taking him. 

“Great!” Louis claps his hands together, and he’s wearing actual sleepwear and he wonders if his silk pajamas make him seem like a pretentious asshole or if Harry wants to feel the soft material against his skin. 

Harry and Louis are talking for a little bit, just talking a little and sipping the champagne a little when Harry brings up a question Louis honestly didn’t anticipate. He’s bringing his finger around the rim of his glass and he’s sort of studying Louis and Louis sort of likes it so he doesn’t let his eyes meet Harry’s in case he disturbs him.

“So do you, like, do you have a boyfriend?” Harry chokes.

Again, Louis isn’t expecting this, of course, and he doesn’t realize Harry knows he’s gay which is a game changer because if he knows Louis is gay and he’s hanging out with him like this, he must be interested, right? But then again, Louis is called princess more times in a day than Kate Middleton so maybe Harry doesn’t know, maybe he’s just assuming.

“Not going to ask my preferences at all then?” Louis prods, raising his brows as he takes a small sip from his glass.

“Well Niall mentioned—”

“Niall?” Louis wants to laugh again but now he’s actually nervous about what all this little Blonde Irishman has told the boy. “What did Niall tell you, exactly?!”

Harry instantly turns a brash shade of pink and Louis doesn’t regret asking because he feels he is on to something. “Well he just mentioned it is all.”

“That isn’t something that just is mentioned,” Louis assures him. “What did he say?”

“Well he said...” Harry seems so nervous and Louis doesn’t know why but he is dying to understand. “He just basically said I didn’t really have a chance is all. I was just sorta asking, you know, innocent stuff and I guess he figured I was interested.”

“Were you?” Louis instantly wants to retract the question because it’s ridiculous of him to ask Harry that.

“Yeah,” Harry tries to shrug it off, tries to act like it’s no big deal, offering a shoulder shrug and a pursing of his lips. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal, I mean I get it. You’re you and I’m me.”

“You idiot,” Louis laughs. “You’re not seriously thinking that way are you? Would I be sitting here on the couch drinking champagne with you at midnight if I weren’t interested?”

“Are you?” Harry asks, perking up. He inches a bit closer to Louis, just a tiny amount, as he anticipates the answer.

Louis knows better than to be this open about his feelings. He’s been hurt countless times by hook-ups, by friends, by employees, by that one guy he once thought he ‘loved’... He’s been hurt way too many times to be an open book, so he simply bites his lip, “I am.”

Harry sighs, “You’re really not seeing anyone?”

“No,” Louis laughs, a big, throw-his-head back laugh and he just puts his glass to his lips briefly before rolling his eyes and giving Harry a huge doe-like expression. “I could only expect a fool to love me, really, darling.”

As Louis smiles to mask the pain Harry tries to see past his grin and tries to help himself into the complexity that is Louis. “Oh please, you could have any guy you wanted, Louis, you must know that. I bet lots of guys would love to date you.”

“Date me, I’m sure.” Louis doesn’t mean to sound conceited but he’s drinking quite a bit of champagne and he’s never felt the opportunity to let some of his feelings out so he just goes for it. “Guys never like me though. Never care for me, not ever.” Louis seems displeased, lightly touching the glass to his lip. His eyes are settled off and focusing on something far, far away—focusing on something that might not even exist. “Nope, they just all think I’m some breakable little thing they can play with and do what they please to and they don’t really care if I cry or if I’m angry. It’s like I’m just a doll to them, really. I’m nothing more than an object. They know that and I know that. Even you, you know it, too!”

Harry isn’t satisfied with the answer. “I think I’d care very much if you cry or if you’re angry, Louis. You don’t deserve to feel that way, to be alone.”

“It’s easy to be alone,” Louis frowns, though he wonders how sincere Harry is, because it sounds awfully true of him.

“It’s also quite difficult,” Harry only sighs.

Louis rests his arm on the back of the couch and then lets his head fall onto the cushion, his eyes staring into Harry’s. “What are you, some kind of Prince Charming?”

“Me?” Harry hoots. “I’m a stable boy.”

“You’re an Upton Derby champion,” Louis acknowledges. “You’re to be a star by morning.”

Harry rolls his eyes with a grin, “Oh, you and I both know the entire population will forget about who won this year just as quick as they forget what they wore to the outing.”

“I won’t forget,” Louis says simply and he means it quite a lot and he wonders if Harry believes him. 

And it’s as if Harry wants to say thank you, he leans up and he presses his lips very softly to Louis’ and it’s a gentle and sincere kiss and it feels like a thousand hot summer nights and cherries and it’s passionate and short but Louis knows, as he sees Harry’s eyes just moments from his, glimmering and wide, he knows as the gap closes between them once more and softness meets his lips, he knows they’ll have many more wonderful kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> okay i was gonna title it after 'fear and loathing' because that's what inspired it but it was half inspired by daisy buchanan from gatsby and so louis' theme song in this is a mixture of 'fear and loathing' and 'young and beautiful'. the line 'will you still love me when i'm no longer young and beautiful' just sticks out because louis doesnt think he has anything anyone can love, you know? idk hopefully it makes sense to you guys i know it's short and all  
> thank you for reading x


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